Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Three Poems after Rampasad
Advice to Seekers
Fling away
all ritual and sacrifice.
Scorn pilgrimage and caste.
Only in the heart
does the true altar stand.
Enter the secret cave,
my darling,
and bow down
before eternity.
A Difficult Passage
Some days
the voice says,
"Only the pain is real."
On others
it whispers,
"Let my arms hold you,
lift you onto this waiting tide.
Together we will be swept out to sea,
know storms, shipwrecks,
drown many time over,
till at last we are flung
onto the shore
where all true lovers dwell."
What Would We Not Do?
If Shiva himself
plays dead
just to feel the
Mother’s feet
trample across his breast,
what would we not do
for a single moment
of such holy touch?
copyright, Dorothy Walters
Fling away
all ritual and sacrifice.
Scorn pilgrimage and caste.
Only in the heart
does the true altar stand.
Enter the secret cave,
my darling,
and bow down
before eternity.
A Difficult Passage
Some days
the voice says,
"Only the pain is real."
On others
it whispers,
"Let my arms hold you,
lift you onto this waiting tide.
Together we will be swept out to sea,
know storms, shipwrecks,
drown many time over,
till at last we are flung
onto the shore
where all true lovers dwell."
What Would We Not Do?
If Shiva himself
plays dead
just to feel the
Mother’s feet
trample across his breast,
what would we not do
for a single moment
of such holy touch?
copyright, Dorothy Walters
